II.

My blessin's upon thy sweet wee lippie, My blessin's upon thy bonnie e'e brie!

Thy smiles are sae like my blythe sodger laddie, Thou's ay the dearer and dearer to me!

But I'll big a bower on yon bonnie banks, Where Tay rins wimplin' by sae clear; And I'll cleed thee in the tartan sae fine, And mak thee a man like thy daddie dear.

x.x.xIII.

THE JOYFUL WIDOWER.

Tune--"_Maggy Lauder._"

[Most of this song is by Burns: his fancy was fierce with images of matrimonial joy or infelicity, and he had them ever ready at the call of the muse. It was first printed in the Musical Museum.]

I.

I married with a scolding wife The fourteenth of November; She made me weary of my life, By one unruly member.

Long did I bear the heavy yoke, And many griefs attended; But to my comfort be it spoke, Now, now her life is ended.

II.

We liv'd full one-and-twenty years A man and wife together; At length from me her course she steer'd, And gone I know not whither: Would I could guess, I do profess, I speak, and do not flatter, Of all the woman in the world, I never could come at her.

III.

Her body is bestowed well, A handsome grave does hide her; But sure her soul is not in h.e.l.l, The deil would ne'er abide her.

I rather think she is aloft, And imitating thunder; For why,--methinks I hear her voice Tearing the clouds asunder.

x.x.xIV.

COME DOWN THE BACK STAIRS.

Tune--"_Whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad._"

[The air of this song was composed by John Bruce, a Dumfries fiddler.

Burns gave another and happier version to the work of Thomson: this was written for the Museum of Johnson, where it was first published.]

CHORUS.

O whistle, and I'll come To you, my lad; O whistle, and I'll come To you, my lad: Tho' father and mither Should baith gae mad, O whistle, and I'll come To you, my lad.

Come down the back stairs When ye come to court me; Come down the back stairs When ye come to court me; Come down the back stairs, And let naebody see, And come as ye were na Coming to me.

x.x.xV.

I AM MY MAMMY'S AE BAIRN.

Tune--"_I'm o'er young to marry yet._"

[The t.i.tle, and part of the chorus only of this song, are old; the rest is by Burns, and was written for Johnson.]

I.

I am my mammy's ae bairn, Wi' unco folk I weary, Sir; And lying in a man's bed, I'm fley'd it make me eerie, Sir.

I'm o'er young to marry yet; I'm o'er young to marry yet; I'm o'er young--'twad be a sin To tak' me frae my mammy yet.

II.

Hallowmas is come and gane, The nights are lang in winter, Sir; And you an' I in ae bed, In trouth, I dare na venture, Sir.

III.

Fu' loud and shrill the frosty wind, Blaws through the leafless timmer, Sir; But, if ye come this gate again, I'll aulder be gin simmer, Sir.

I'm o'er young to marry yet; I'm o'er young to marry yet; I'm o'er young, 'twad be a sin To tak me frae my mammy yet.

x.x.xVI.

BONNIE La.s.sIE, WILL YE GO.

Tune--"_The birks of Aberfeldy._"

[An old strain, called "The Birks of Abergeldie," was the forerunner of this sweet song: it was written, the poet says, standing under the Falls of Aberfeldy, near Moness, in Perthshire, during one of the tours which he made to the north, in the year 1787.]

CHORUS.

Bonnie la.s.sie, will ye go, Will ye go, will ye go; Bonnie la.s.sie, will ye go To the birks of Aberfeldy?